Light Bulbs
by dangerprawn
Summary: A patient gets to Wilson and it seems that he is finally starting to break as an oncologist. House helps him cover his tracks.


Wilson stood forlornly in the parking lot staring at the spot where his car should have been. He heard House coming up behind him but didn't move a muscle. Maybe if he was still enough House would lose interest in him and he could avoid an interrogation by his best friend.

"Your car's gone."

"I..." he faltered, licked his lips, swallowed hard and started again. He tried to keep the guilt from his voice and eyes. But, when he spoke he could feel himself shaking almost imperceptibly and his eyes, well, they had always been too expressive for his own good. The corners of his lips tugged up in a small smile. House was bound to notice anyway, "I... um..."

"Come on. Let's go find it before somebody else does."

_Sitting behind his sturdy, hardwood desk and donning his perfectly polished dress shoes, immaculately starched shirts and seven fold ties helped him to create a barrier between him and the patient. Keeping the knick-knacks they gave him around helped remind him that he was doing his job well, that there was nothing to feel guilty about. It was a flimsy barrier and a weak illusion but very little bit of support mattered in the business of telling people they were about to die._

"Mr. Sutton, your cancer..."

"I didn't think he would actually..." Wilson tried to explain.

House didn't want to hear it. His motorcycle roared to life drowning out all attempts at conversation.

Wilson saw his lips moving but didn't hear his voice form the words, "Get on."

_Watch for their reaction before explaining the options._

On the other side of the desk Mr. Sutton covered his mouth with his hand. He shifted eyes fixed on the Vertigo poster for a moment. Wilson waited. Was he going to cry?

No. He took in a long, wavering breath, "How long do I have?"

Wilson clung for dear life to House's waist as they flew down I-95. He wasn't sure what the diagnostician's plan was or why it involved breaking the speed limit. He hoped it didn't involve breaking any other laws. If he were going to lose his license he wanted to do it without making any more stains on his conscience.

_"A month, maybe two." Remain calm. Don't frighten him. Don't betray the fact that modern medicine can do nothing to prevent his death from being humiliating and excruciatingly painful, "There are things we can do, options we can discuss to make you more comfortable."_

"More comfortable?" the patient smiled sadly as though he saw right through the facade of the man on the other side of the desk, "Doctor Wilson, my pain is already unmanageable."

Most people in his position were too shocked at this final confirmation of their mortality to react so coolly. This was obviously something Mr. Sutton had been considering for a long time.  
  
When they reached their destination House parked under a streetlight. The cicadas rubbed their wings together. The frogs softly peeped to one another. The whippoorwills called in the night. The woods smelled like sandy soil and dead pine needles. It was calm, dreamlike.

Wilson got off the bike and watched House limp up the driveway, towards his patient's home.  
_  
"Is there anything I can do for you?"_

"I don't have any friends left. My wife died years ago. My son-in-law drives me to appointments. But, they never visit. All I really want is to–"

They found a key under the mat and let themselves in. The home smelled strongly of dust and cologne. None of the lights were on.  
_  
It was at about that point in the conversation that Wilson's logic fled from him, "To..?"_

"May I borrow your car?"

Why it was this patient who got to him after he had seen so very many others in the same position he would never know.  
  
They felt their way to the garage in the dark to find the car still running.

House reached inside to turn the motor off. He glanced towards Wilson, "Don't look so upset about it. Swallowing a bunch of pain pills and taking a nap in the garage is a much more pleasant and dignified way to go than wasting away in your oncology ward."

"Look," he felt himself gesturing towards the cup holder, laughing so he wouldn't cry, "he took the light bulbs out of dashboard so the battery wouldn't run out."

There was a long pause. He almost jumped when House reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, "We have to get him inside."


End file.
